Shame
by Brazen Hussy
Summary: As she drew closer the red cherry of his cigarette flared dully in the dark. "Wondered when ya'd get here, woman," he said, exhaling the smoke into the warm night air. "Thought ya might not be comin'." Andrea stared at him through the darkness. "Just shut your mouth and get those pants off, Dixon." Was one-shot smut with a twist, now something more. Graphic sex, swearing. Complete.
1. Chapter 1

**Shame**

He was already waiting down by the water when she arrived. It was nearly midnight but there was enough of a moon to make out his silhouette. She walked quietly, but as she drew closer the red cherry of his cigarette flared dully in the dark.

"Wondered when ya'd get here, woman," he said, exhaling the smoke into the warm night air. "Thought ya might not be comin'."

Andrea stared at him through the darkness. The pale glimmer of his skin told her he hadn't even bothered with a shirt, probably because the night was hot. Or he could just be eager. He wasn't the only one.

"Just shut your mouth and get those pants off, Dixon."

He didn't move and she could hear the smirk in his voice. "Don't ya wanna talk first? Get me ta talk up some shit about how ya hair looks in the moonlight…"

She strode over and grabbed his crotch. Though his eyes didn't waver from her face, she had the satisfaction of feeling him tense. This close she could smell the musky scent of his skin underneath the tang of tobacco smoke. Some water droplets clung to his broad shoulders; he must have swum in the lake while waiting for her.

"Take 'em off," she repeated.

He huffed what might have been a laugh. "I'm getting' to it, woman," he drawled, "thought mebbe I'd finish my smoke first…"

Andrea snatched the cigarette from his hand and threw it to the ground, before crushing her mouth to his. His unresponsive demeanour had clearly been a front, as immediately he grasped her upper arms and dragged her hard against him. She ground her hips against his as they kissed, her hands sliding up his ribs to run over the solid wall of his chest, and when his tongue probed along the seam of her lips she impatiently allowed him entry. He took her mouth aggressively, their teeth clicking slightly as she explored him with equal violence. Through the heat and wet she could still taste the tobacco, but there was also the underlying taste of something that was indefinably him. He traced the roof of her mouth and she supressed a slight moan as they drew apart to catch their breath.

Keeping her close, he ghosted his mouth along her jawline and up to her ear, the rasp of his stubble a delicious contrast to the surprising softness of his lips. "Now why," he whispered as he nibbled at her earlobe, "can't ya just ask me _nice_?" Andrea's mouth tightened and her eyes shut as though to ignore him, but she felt his rumble of laughter through her whole body. "Please, _Mister _Dixon," he mocked, "won't ya fuck me? Ya know I love it when ya fuck me hard..."

She snorted. "Then why don't you _shut up_ and do it," she snapped, pushing on his shoulders. He allowed her to press him back down to the blanket lying on the soft mud.

He leaned back on his elbows, and she could still feel his amused gaze as she straddled his thighs and began the struggle with his belt. As she fumbled with the buckle, part of her mind wondered how she had ended up at this point. She hadn't given the Dixon brothers a thought when she first arrived, other than to dismiss them as redneck trash and to warn Amy not to be alone with either of them. You didn't need her experience as a lawyer to tell that they were trouble.

_To think it only took a couple of weeks for her to ignore her own advice. _

She'd noticed his arms first, though in fairness to herself they were _always_ on display, and they were probably muscular and defined enough to be distracting for any woman. Too often she found herself watching them as he brought the heavier game back to the camp with that odd brother of his, or used his hunting knife with practiced ease, making the difficult job of skinning and butchering look simple. Later she realised this hadn't gone unobserved. She began to catch his eyes as they subtly followed her movements around the camp; they were small and bright and of the clearest crystal blue. They still hardly ever spoke, though that was nothing unusual since the Dixon's didn't mix well with the rest of the camp anyway.

Then one night, another hot one like this, she'd been unable to sleep, and decided to sneak away for a midnight swim in the quarry. Carrying a 6-inch hunting knife, she'd slipped silently past Dale on his night watch, unwilling to delay her adventure with explanations, and picked her way quietly down to the muddy shingle that passed for a beach. She soon found she wasn't the only one with the same idea.

He was walking out of the water buck naked and was clearly as stunned as she was; almost unbelievably given the situation, he had said absolutely nothing.

Once he'd hastily pulled on some pants, he'd taken her to task for being a dumb bitch with less common sense than a damn dog, wandering about in the dark with little more than a fucking penknife to protect her. Andrea didn't appreciate being spoken like that. As she'd spluttered out a justification of her behaviour… which she made clear was _none_ of his fucking business _anyway_… he watched her with that patronising, self-righteous smirk that only antagonised her further. Attempting to avoid drawing attention with their argument, they moved closer so they could snipe at each other in hushed voices. Before she knew it she was flat on her back with her panties pushed aside and him thrusting roughly into her, fucking her hard enough to have her biting viciously down on his shoulder to stop herself from screaming as she came.

Somehow it had become a fairly regular thing. Occasionally she waited and he didn't show, and she assumed that it was the same for him. Sometimes he went off hunting for a few days. But every few nights she would find herself in a situation like this one, with her yanking open the fly of his jeans and palming his semi-hard cock through his worn boxers.

He grunted as she slipped her hand inside them and gripped him firmly, while she enjoyed the feel of him pulsing in her hand. As she began to slide her hand back and forth over his hardening cock, circling the head with her thumb, he exhaled loudly. "_Fuuuck…,"_ he breathed.

"See," she chuckled, "and you say I don't treat you nice." He frowned at her slightly. Suddenly her hand was knocked away and he was pulling at her own clothes, tugging her tank top over her head before dragging her shorts down her legs. She didn't wear panties at night anymore, and was now bare to his gaze except for her simple white bra.

He groaned and pushed her back onto the blanket, running his moist tongue along the top of the cups; she revelled in the cool trail left behind on her hot skin. "Fuckin' _perfect_," Andrea felt him mumble against her breast, before gently teasing one nipple though the fabric with his teeth. The sensation was electric, and she dug her work-blunted nails into the scarred skin of his back. She felt herself getting wet and arched towards him, seeking further satisfaction. Instead he threw one denim clad leg over hers to hold her still. She took the opportunity to buck and grind herself against his hard thigh, the coarseness of the warm fabric against her bringing her closer to the edge.

"Dammit woman, cut that shit out," he muttered as he placed a large hand on her stomach and pushed her down firmly. "I ain't planning on no five minute job."

She shot him an unrepentant grin. He returned an exasperated look as he took her mouth again, trying to assert his dominance. She wouldn't accept it however, and their tongues duelled as she raked her nails lightly up over his stomach to play with his nipples. She felt him almost sigh into her mouth with pleasure.

As they kissed, she managed to get him to shuck his jeans, leaving him in his boxers. She took the opportunity to give his firm ass a hard squeeze through the thinner fabric; _dammit, but_ _she did love having that solid flesh yield to her fingers_. Breaking away, he sat up and pulled her to him, reaching behind her to undo the clasp of her bra. As he did so, he brushed the line of her collarbone with his mouth. "Ya know," he whispered, and she had to stop herself from shuddering as his lips tickled the thin skin there, "if ya didn't want to keep this such a big fuckin' secret, we could fuck in the tent on the bedrolls. Be more fuckin' comfortable. Wouldn't have ta sneak back neither. Be safer."

Irritated, she pulled him back down beside her. She scraped her teeth down his neck, nipping the sensitive skin over his jugular far harder than was necessary. She felt a twisted sense of satisfaction that it would be sore in the morning. "_Why_ do you have to talk so much during sex?" she muttered, shrugging off her bra in hope that it would distract him. It did to an extent, but he only buried his face between her exposed breasts for a moment before roughly dragging his stubble over one tender peak, causing her to inhale sharply at the sting. _It seemed two could play that game._

"If ya don't talk ta me in camp, when the fuck else am I meant to talk to ya?" He was still pressed closely against her side but sounded slightly pissed.

"I talk to you in camp," she replied, trying to drag his lips back to her nipple. _It wasn't __**quite**__ a lie._

"Uh huh," he said, sounding unconvinced. He dropped his head down her breast and suckled hard on the tender nub, while his hand toyed with its twin. She arched up towards him as he lifted his head, her fingers clawing at his hair and scalp. "Ya 'shamed a fuckin' a Dixon, tha's what it is." She felt his warm, rough hand leave her breast and begin trailing gently down her stomach, the tips of his fingers drifting through the curling hair between her legs. "Don't want the rest of 'em ta know ya like fuckin' redneck trash."

"_No_…," she tried to deny it, but his finger dipped into the slickness between her folds and she groaned as he began to stroke her, coating her with her own moisture. His other hand captured her wrists above her head, and he looked down at her as he continued.

"It's true," he affirmed, quickly slipping a thick, calloused finger inside her, continuing as she whimpered at the sensation. "Ya don't want them to know that this_, this_" he said, abruptly adding another finger as his thumb rubbed over her clit, "is what _really_ get's ya off." She was writhing now; _God, it felt so fucking good._ "All that time ya wit' the others, playin' Miss Goody Two Shoes wit' that sister a yours, ya love that none of 'em know ya thinkin' 'bout me shovin' ya against one of them trees and fuckin' ya until ya can't hardly walk."

Her eyelids fluttered as his finger's curled inside her and the explicit images his gruff voice conjured up brought her close. "Mmm…_God_… _please_…" Her voice was hoarse. _Just a few more seconds…_

Suddenly he stopped, and she couldn't prevent a small mew of disappointment as she looked at him in confusion. "Say my name," he whispered. He was staring at her intently, his face closer to hers than she had realised and the words little more than breath against her lips.

"Say. My. Name," he repeated, as though daring her, knowing she couldn't. "Say the name of the man wit' his fingers inside ya. Say the name of the man ya beg to fuck ya."

She stared back at him but said nothing, simply arching against his hand, encouraging him without words to continue. He looked at her a moment longer. He was only a silhouette against the night sky for her, but even in the dark Andrea eventually turned her head away.

_Because… it wasn't __**quite **__a lie. _

_It was true. All of it. Everything he said. _

_She was ashamed. Of herself. Of him. For who and what they were. What they did. She would never acknowledge what happened between them. She never wanted to see judgement in the eyes of the rest of the group, to see their prejudices laid bare… because a part of her shared them. And of that truth she was especially ashamed. _

_Even in a new world where she could imagine few people more likely, more __**fit**__, to survive, he could only ever be her dirty, guilty little secret. _

He exhaled sharply, and if he been any other man she would have thought he sounded disappointed. "_Fuck it_…" he murmured before he began to move his hand again, albeit a little more roughly, and she was aware of little else.

She moaned louder as she neared her peak, and his other hand moved down from her wrists to lightly cover her mouth. She saw her chance to elude further conversation, and grasping his hand in both of hers she sucked two of his fingers into her mouth. She curled her tongue around the ridges and callouses, and felt him twitch and buck his hips against her side.

"Woman, ya best stop…" he warned, his voice strained, but Andrea only sucked harder, enjoying the salt taste of his skin. Through the threadbare fabric of his pants she could feel the heat of his cock grind harder against her hip, keeping pace with the movement of his fingers inside her until she went shuddering into an orgasm that left her lying breathless and limp against him.

She dropped his hand from her mouth to her breast, desperate to get more air to her lungs. After a few moments she felt him slide his hand from between her legs, watching his eyes glitter in the weak light as he placed it in his mouth. "Mmm," he said, sucking off her juices, "that's some sweet pussy." He leaned back over her and surprised her by kissing her softly, sharing the faint taste of herself on his tongue. She felt him pressed rock-hard against her thigh and the kiss quickly became more urgent; he rapidly stripped off his pants as own need took precedence, pulling her up onto her hands and knees.

As she felt him position himself behind her, he placed a long wet lick up between her shoulder blades, tasting the smooth skin of her back. _God, he pressed all her fucking buttons._ She didn't have time to do more than arch in response before they were both groaning in pleasure as he slid into her, burying himself right up to the hilt. Andrea loved the hot, heavy fullness of his thick cock stretching her wide.

He held himself still, his shuddering breath suggesting he was fighting for control, and she allowed him a few moments before pushing herself back into him. "_Fucking move…," _she begged,_ "need this…_" She gasped when he made a few experimental thrusts, pulling out slowly before slamming back into her, seeking out the best angles. When one caused her to produce a rather throaty moan, he began to pumping into her hard, increasing his pace when her slick channel offered less resistance.

"Such a hot fuckin' bitch… so _tight_…_fuck_…" he ground out, his voice thick with desire.

His filthy phrasing turned her on even more, but just as she was working up to another orgasm he abruptly pulled her up onto just her knees, holding her back against his chest. The angle was shallower and his movements slower, but his hands now had better access to her body, and one kneaded a breast while the other reached between her folds again. His face was buried in her hair, his hot breath tickling the back of her neck, but she wanted so badly now to feel him lose control. Taking advantage of their change in position, she reached down awkwardly and cupped his balls in her hand, massaging them as best she could.

"_Shit _woman!" he barked, thrusting hard and wrapping his arms tight around her as he was lost to sensation. She continued until he dragged her hand away. Fisting his hand in her hair until it was almost painful, he yanked her head up and round into a sloppy kiss over her shoulder. Swiftly he pulled out of her, ignoring her whimper of protest as he flipped her over onto her back. Hooking her legs over his shoulders he entered her again, and she could hear the sound of their flesh slapping together as he fucked her. She was close, and she knew he was too by the growing urgency of his thrusts. His muscular chest pressed against her breasts, the coarse hair brushing her taut nipples, and she lifted up her head to taste him, sweeping her tongue into the salt-sweet hollow at the base of his throat. He made a strangled sound and looked down at her. Their faces were mere inches apart, and in the moonlight she could almost believe she saw the bright blue of his eyes before he lowered his face next to hers.

"C'mon, woman," he rasped, breath damp in her ear and his Southern drawl more pronounced, "cum fer me. _Fuck_… yer look so fuckin' beautiful when ya cum…"

The shock of hearing those words from him was enough to send her spiralling over the edge again, moaning incoherently. As she clenched around his cock she felt him tense, gripping her hips with bruising force as he spilt himself into her with a few jerky thrusts. Spent, he all but collapsed on top of her, remaining inside her with his face resting on her breasts. After a moment he pulled out and rolled over, working his way up the blanket before he drew her over so her head rested on his chest. She allowed herself a moment to listen to his heart returning to its normal steady thud beneath her ear, breathing in the scent of sweat and sex that seemed to permeate the air.

They lay that way for a few minutes before Andrea removed his arm and stood up. She walked down to the water and took a quick dip, washing away the evidence of her night-time adventures. _Lucky she still had a few months' worth of contraceptive pills left._

He didn't try to stop her, simply sifting through his clothes for his cigarettes and watching from the shore, arms resting on his knees, apparently unconscious of his nakedness. She walked back to him and began to put on her clothes. Once she was dressed again, he silently offered her the cigarette he'd started, and she took a few deep puffs before handing it back to him.

"Ya didn't answer my question," he said abruptly. He was still looking calmly out over the lake, cigarette smoke curling around him.

She felt trapped, but saw no escape. "What question was that?"

He turned and looked towards her; from a few feet away his deep set eyes were just empty shadows. "Why _can't_ ya just ask me nice?"

There were so many reasons, all of which she would be ashamed to say to his face.

"It's just… it's complicated." _It wasn't __**quite**__ a lie. And what did it matter? They would both be back here again, one night or another… _

He continued to stare at her for a few moments, and then turned to look back out over the lake. He took a breath as though about to say something else, then closed his mouth tightly, flicked away the cigarette and stood up. "Gonna take a dip before heading back. Then mebbe get wasted. Ya wanna join me?" It hadn't been what he was going to say, she was sure. He still wasn't looking at her.

"I should probably go. Before they change watches."

His face twisted slightly, and he nodded. "Guess ya probably should then."

All the way back up the path she listened, but she never heard him enter the water.

…

As it turned out, they never had another midnight session at the quarry.

When Andrea looked back later, on that long journey to Herschel's farm, she realised just how much their relationship, especially the end of it, had changed her. The line had been crossed; she could never allow herself to feel ashamed again, to allow shame to make her weak again.

Now when she looked back on the other things she'd been ashamed of, she could almost laugh. Stupid things, which she had allowed too much significance in the new world they found themselves in. He had been right to be disappointed in her. But it didn't matter now, not since she carried the worst guilt of all, the one that would continue to lash her conscience in the months to come.

The terrible, _crushing _shame that she had done nothing when the group, the one she was _so eager_ to be part of, left him to die, handcuffed to a roof in Atlanta.

... ... ...

Yep, it was Merle all along. Apologies to the Daryl shippers but Merle needs love too! Hope that was a surprise for most you, but if not I still hope you enjoyed. Reviews are much appreciated.

I have a longer story coming up but my computer is down at the moment. However, I felt I had to borrow a friend's to post this one-shot in time to celebrate Merle's return in S3!

.


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter Two**

"Please Rowley, I have to go," Andrea begged again, "It's important."

Rowley frowned, no doubt suspicious and puzzled as to her motivations, but at least he wasn't hostile. "It'll be getting' dark soon, time fer curfew. Better ta go in tha morning. Can't do nothin' tonight."

"It can't wait."

"Shupert ain't back wit' cha friend. He'll wonder where we gone," argued Rowley with a slight whine, "Gov'ner won't like it if we're payin' calls after curfew…"

"Merle's the Governor's second in command, isn't he?" Andrea interrupted, becoming desperate, "He could bring me back, couldn't he? Then you could come straight back after dropping me off and tell Shupert." Rowley scratched his chin in thought, still looking dubious. Andrea played her last card. "It's important I tell him what I've remembered about the group I was with."

"I reckon," said Rowley, slowly, still frowning. He sighed and picked up his rifle, gesturing towards the corridor. "Git along then. An' quick!"

…

He led her to what had been a bakery, which seemed a little more luxurious than the place she and Michonne had been settled in, though she couldn't put her finger on why.

Rowley led her through the front shop and into the living space behind. They went up a few flights of stairs to the top floor. Despite the limited light from the occasional candle, she was struck but how normal it felt, to see wallpapered walls and hear the soft hush of carpet beneath her feet.

_God, was it really only two days ago I was dying in the woods?_

Rowley walked up to the door at the furthest end of the darkened corridor and glanced back over his shoulder, as though checking she wasn't going to leave him ringing the doorbell alone like a naughty schoolboy. She came and stood next to him, and he gave a couple of sharp knocks on the doorframe. She heard the tread of feet across a carpeted floor, some fumbling with the handle, and then the door opened to reveal a medium sized room poorly lit by one candle, with a large man silhouetted in the doorway. He was tiredly rubbing his forearm against his face, but as their eyes met his whole body went taut. When he spoke, his tone was dry.

"Lil' late fer social calls, isn't it, Blondie?"

…

She had noticed it when they talked in the makeshift hospital, but as her eyes grew accustomed to the low light she was once again struck by how exhausted he looked. She would have thought living in a place as wonderful as Woodbury appeared to be would see him looking healthy, but it didn't appear to be the case. He'd been heavier back at the quarry, his face less thin and drawn.

_Still, it was well over a year since she'd seen him, and God knows he hadn't had it easy. Neither of them had. _

He didn't look like he got much sleep, though he was clearly getting ready for bed despite it being quite early. He wore only a wife beater and cargo pants, and the buckles holding the cover to his stump were undone save for one, the straps hanging loosely down. His feet were also bare, something Andrea found strangely intimate. She didn't think she'd ever noticed his feet in the nights they spent to together at the quarry.

She looked up, and realised the dryly amused expression on his face was because he was still waiting for her to speak. Realising she'd been holding her breath as well, she blurted out the first thing that came into her head.

"Can we talk?"

As soon as it was out of her mouth, she knew it was the wrong thing to say. Though his face became neutral a muscle worked in his jaw and anger flared in his eyes. "Ya wanna talk now?" His voice was tight.

Fortunately for Andrea, Rowley misunderstood his resentment. "Sorry 'bout this Merle, she said she had ta come see ya. Tell ya somethin' about tha group. Figured it made more sense bringin' her to ya rather'n botherin' the Gov'ner… ya know? D'ya wan' me ta bring 'er back in tha mornin'? It's nearly curfew see'n Shupert don't know we're gone…"

"Tha's fine Rowley, ya did right. Y'all take off now, ya hear? I'll take Miss Andrea back ta her place, or if we don't make curfew she can stay here on tha couch. Let Shupert know, so he don't start hollering up a storm, an' then go see if ya talk tha' sweet lil' Chink girl over tha antique shop inta lettin' ya stay the night."

Rowley grinned ruefully. "Can't keep a damn thing secret in this town…" he muttered before setting off smartly down the corridor.

Merle stood back from the door. "Well, ya coming in or ain't cha?"

…

As Merle shut the door behind her, Andrea looked round Merle's home. There was a double bed, an old fashioned brass one that had no doubt come with the room, since the décor including the sheets was chintzy stuff from the fifties or sixties. There was a small ensuite that looked more recent. There were no personal statements, though as they'd left Merle with nothing but the clothes he stood up in, it was hardly surprising. Then she noticed the leather cuff he'd always worn on the table under the window, along with some hand guns that had obviously just been cleaned. He must have done it before the light faded. Now the window was covered in dark heavy cloth, no doubt to stop the weak candle light from the elevated room attracting walkers.

She turned. Merle was watching her, arm's folded. He was clearly waiting for her to speak. Everything she had so carefully prepared since he'd come back with the National Guard supplies died on her lips. "I suppose sorry isn't enough."

The even tone was gone completely, drowned out by bitter sarcasm. "God_damn_, a sorry _and_ a thank you? I must be dreamin'. And since ya ask, no, it fuckin' ain't. Anythin' else?"

She forced herself to continue. "I know…I know you must still be angry with us…with me…especially me…"

His lip curled in disgust. "Especially you? Damn straight, _especially you_. Ain't I gotta right ta be?"

"Yes." _What else could she say? The others had left her at the farm; wasn't she angry at them? Didn't she have a right to be?_

He was right in front of her in seconds. "_Yes?_" he hissed in her face, his breathing harsh and unsteady. "Yes_?_ Three days. _Three fuckin' days_ lyin' in my own sweat an' piss an' shit, waitin' fer ya ta come before tha geeks got me. But ya didn't! Ya fuckin' didn't!"

She started to speak, but he wasn't done.

"D'ya know how long it takes ta cut off ya hand? Can ya guess, darlin'? Mebbe i's not tha' long really, mebbe it just _feels_ like fuckin' hours. Tha's assumin' ya don't pass out like I did. The bone, ya see; the bone was the _tough_ part…" Andrea gagged slightly, but he didn't stop. "Don't even know how long I passed out fer, but ya wanna know why I didn't die? Didn't bleed out? 'Cause I was so dehydrated my blood wouldn't' flow right. Ya'd left me so long I was too fuckin' sick ta even die! An' ya didn't even come back."

"No."

"Yes. No," he said bitterly, turning away from her. "Tha' all ya can say?"

_God this was all coming out wrong._ "I'm not the person I was then. I wanted you to know I've changed since… _because_ of what happened…"

"Is tha' right, sugartits? Well, ain't we all?! Though I can't tell ya how fuckin' overjoyed I am tha' me sawin' off my own fuckin' hand was instrumental ta ya journey of personal fuckin' growth."

There was nothing to be done now; she had come to reap what she sowed, and all that had grown by her actions was Merle's rage and loathing. "You're right, you're right to hate me. I just… I just wanted to come and say sorry."

He snorted in disgust. "Aww, just couldn't say it in front a ya little mute friend down there? An' ya said ya fuckin' changed…."

"No!" He raised a disbelieving eyebrow. "I know you hate me. I don't blame you. I can't. But it wasn't that I didn't apologise in the hospital because I was… ashamed to be associated with you… for people to think there could be anything between us. And it wasn't because of Michonne."

She drew a shaky breath, repelled by what her next words revealed about her. "If I had apologised then, while I didn't know if you were… if you were out for revenge… if we were in danger, you might not have believed me. You might have thought I was just playing along, trying to bargain in some way."

He still looked angry, but his eyes were now intent on hers.

"That's why I came here tonight, when I know we're safe. So you can know it's the truth, even if it's nothing to you now, even if you don't fucking care. So it can mean something because I have nothing to gain… and… I suppose nothing I'm afraid to lose anymore. So you can know that I thought about you so many times. That it made me sick inside, thinking what we had done. What I had done. So…I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. I wish you could just know how much."

He continued to stare at her for full minute, dark blue eyes searching aquamarine. His voice was hard when he spoke. "Ya say yer sorry. Tha' ya mean it. But I don't think ya do, not yet." He leaned towards her, anger seeping into his voice again. "I wan' ya ta _know_ wha' ya sorry fer. Tha's when I wan' ya ta look me in tha eye an' tell me ya mean it."

She nodded, and he gestured at the chair by the window. "Sit down." She turned it round and sat facing the bed, watching as he sank onto it, facing her. For a moment he sat stiff, the anger seeming to come off him in waves. Then suddenly, all the fight that was quintessentially Merle deserted him, and he slumped, looking smaller. "Shit," he muttered to himself, rubbing his hand over his face as though uncertain what to say.

Merle tilted his head down, so his face was in shadow as he removed the cover from his stump, slotting it onto the brass bedpost. He stared at the stump, cradled in his lap, before looking directly at her, pinning her eyes with his own. He spoke so softly, Andrea could hardly believe what he said.

"I dreamed about ya. On the roof. I thought ya were there."

…

"Dunno if I was still high or dehydrated, mebbe sunstroke; don't matter. Meant I could handle tha days anyway," Merle continued. "I saw my pals, my army buddies. Swopped stories. Tha heat, it brought it all back. Sometimes I'd think I was lyin' on tha soft sand, sun in my face, jus' waitin' fer new orders. It wasn't so bad."

He paused, and Andrea realised that she'd only known he was in the military because Daryl had mentioned it once to Shane in her presence. She'd never asked Merle about it, never wanted to listen anytime he'd tried to talk about his past, so she had no idea where he had been deployed. A sick feeling began to build inside her, but she forced it down as he started to speak again.

The quiet horror in his gruff voice was almost unbearable.

"Tha nights though…tha nights were bad. Ya know geeks are more active at night? I could hear 'em moanin', pushin' at tha door, tryin' ta get ta me. But I couldn't see em. It was so cold, I couldn't sleep. My army buddies didn't come at night neither. Tha' whole first night I was alone, lyin' in the dark, listenin' ta tha dead, waitin' fer 'em ta break through. Tha' was…tha' was a long night."

Andrea said nothing, but she could feel the tears begin to come. She tried to hold them back; she had lost her right to cry for him.

"Then mornin' came, an' then tha heat, an' my friends came wit' it. I was okay again. Tha' evening, I asked… I _fuckin'_ _begged_ 'em not ta leave me, but they did. Yeah, they did. I was lyin' there in tha cold an' tha dark, alone again, but there was a moon tha' night. Dunno if they could see me better, but the geeks seemed more riled up than before. Tha _sound_ of 'em…I thought I was gonna go mad. Then I saw ya."

His eyes blazed into hers, and she wondered how a man like Merle Dixon could look like he saw salvation in her, even for that one delirious moment. "Ya always looked amazin' in tha moonlight. I ever tell ya that? Must be tha' blonde hair or somethin'. Ya came an' ya sat with me, put yer arms around me, kept me warm."

She couldn't stop them any longer, and Andrea felt hot tears run down her face. It didn't matter; Merle wasn't looking at her anymore. He was looking past her now, back to that night and an Andrea that had been worthy of him.

"That wasn't all. My Andrea…," as he paused, reliving his memories, she was surprised to find his words stung.

"…she _talked_ ta me. She listened." Merle shocked her by suddenly chuckling to himself. "Can't remember wha' I said, think I must'a talked all kinds'a shit in tha' state. War stories, mebbe stuff from when I were a kid, or lookin' after Daryl. Must'a been borin' as fuck for her, but she listened, she talked. She was _there_."

_She found a world of judgement in that single word; it was something she had never been. Not for Amy… and now not for Merle._

"She was there tha' whole night, stayed till mornin'. Must a dozed off, 'cause when I woke she was gone an' my buddies were back. But it didn't matter, 'cause now I knew. Now I _knew_ ya were comin' back, tha' ya wouldn't let 'em leave me."

Andrea bit back a sob, but Merle continued, his voice almost reverent.

"So I tried ta get some sleep tha' day, jus' ignored tha geeks. An' that night _ya came back_. Ya came back an' ya sat with me, an' I asked ya not ta go. Ya _didn't go_ Andrea, ya were still there when tha sun rose; I remember ya was all coloured pink and orange by tha light, curled up next ta me. I'd never been so close ta ya in the daylight before. I told ya tha others would be comin' tha' day, tha' you'd be comin' fer me, an' we waited t'gether. I kept talkin', tellin' ya anythin' I could think of so ya'd stay. An' then, one time… I looked up… an' ya was gone." He drew a shuddering breath.

"I thought tha' first night…thought i'was bad. But when ya left, an' I could hear 'em still pushin' on tha door, louder than ever… I had nuthin' left in me. I prayed ta God, ta Jesus ta save me… but there was nuthin'. An' tha' was tha moment when I realised tha truth." His eye's slid back to hers, and their emptiness cut at her.

"Tha's when I realised how fuckin' _stupid_ I'd been. Tha' there _wasn't_ anyone ever comin' after ol' Merle, never had been, never would be… tha' he had ta look out fer himself, had ta be strong fer himself, just like always." He sighed, and rubbed his remaining hand over his head, dragging it back and forth across his scalp in some instinctive gesture of comfort.

"Now d'ya see, woman, why ya gotta be sorry? It ain't 'cause ya left me. It ain't even 'cause ya didn't come back. It's 'cause ya made me forget tha' i'was wha' I should'a _expected_. Ya made me forget wha' I was, wha' it means ta be Dixon. Ya see…," he broke off in frustration, as though searching for a way to make her understand something so fundamental to his existence that he had never questioned it, never _needed_ to explain it to another.

"Dixon's… we're _born_ shit outta luck. We got nuthin'. We don't get given nuthin'. We die being nuthin' ta anyone. But we're tough; we survive 'cause we don't _need_ nuthin' from nobody. Tha's our _pride_. Ya made me forget tha', an' forgettin' it damn near got me killed."

…

Andrea covered her face with her hands, sobs wracking her body as she finally surrendered to her guilt and grief.

_She had done this; it didn't matter that she hadn't meant to. She had given him a dream of something more, something beyond self-reliance and survival, and when he had reached out for it, and trusted himself to her, she had trampled on it. A line from an old poem Dale had quoted came back to her… Tread softly, for you tread on my dreams… _

She was surprised to feel the touch of his hand on her shoulder; Merle's voice was stern, but gentle. "C'mon now, stop tha'. Can't stan' women cryin' all over the place. I ain't dead. Ya didn't break me…though I know ya gave it ya best shot." She gave a rather watery chuckle and looked up, her eyes red and puffy, still streaming. He was grinning slightly, and for a moment he looked like his old self. "Least ya look like shit when ya cry; I was startin' ta think ya weren't human."

She understood now why her earlier words had not been enough. When she spoke, her voice was hoarse with crying. "Merle… oh God, I'm so sorry."

His grin faded a little. "Merle? Not Dixon?" She nodded; it was the first time she'd ever called him by his name. "Huh. Figures," he said cryptically. He walked past her to the window, twitched back the curtain carefully and sighed. "Ain't quite dark yet; c'mon, I can get cha back before curfew."

Andrea stood as he walked across the room to open the door, but the idea was already beginning to solidify in her mind, and her determination along with it. As he reached for the handle, she committed herself to the deed.

"I think you're wrong, you know."

He turned back to her, his eyes guarded. "I think I did break you, Merle, just a little. And I never meant to."

_Those blue eyes… _She watched them shift to pained to angry to resigned, but when he spoke his voice was merely tired. "Don't matter now, jus'…"

"It matters to me," she interrupted calmly. She walked to stand in front of him, and gently took the stump of his arm in her hands. Merle flinched but she held on, and sliding her hands down to his truncated wrist, she forced herself to really look at it.

It hadn't been a clean amputation, the mangled remains of flesh and bone, twisted skin and ropey muscles telling their own story. She ran the tips of her fingers, torturously slow and feather light, against what had once been a raw wound.

"_Don't…"_ She heard it, though most wouldn't; the hint of pleading, begging in his voice. She was right; the old Merle would never have begged. She _had_ broken him. Andrea released the stump gently, and taking his hand led him gently to the bed, trying to pull him down with her.

"Ya don't have ta do tha'," he snapped angrily, irritation seeping into his voice, "Ya apologised, jus' go…"

"Talk," she said, holding his eyes.

He stared at her, uncertain what she meant. She took advantage of his indecision and tugged him down beside her, pressing him down to lie crosswise across the bed with her. She took both his hand and his stump in hers, and her eyes never left his.

"I'm listening. I'm _here_. _Talk_ to me."

He hesitated. For a moment, she was sure he would refuse. She knew she was asking a lot of him; to roll the dice once more and risk everything on her again…

Merle rolled away, and blew out the room's solitary candle.

…

She would never be able to remember exactly how it happened, or what was said. She only knew that somehow she found herself wrapped in his arms, her head resting on his shoulder, while his lips murmured the pattern of his life into the delicate skin of her temple.

She saw all the ragged pieces of it, some hateful, some terrible, some parts damaged beyond repair, but the whole still comprising a man who was worth more than a life full of nothing. Eventually his voice stopped and there was silence between them, except for the distant thud of his heart somewhere beneath her ear. Shifting, she propped herself up on her elbows and stared down at him, though in the blackness she could see little more than the outline of his head. Judging the distance carefully, she leaned down and pressed a gentle kiss on his forehead. There was nothing sexual about it; it reminded her of a benediction, though any absolution from the gesture was his to give.

Slowly, so he could turn away, reject her if he chose, she placed a butterfly kiss on his grizzled cheek; when he didn't react, she moved across and kissed the other, his stubble prickly beneath her lips. Stopping again, she lifted her head and tried desperately to read him, to get a sense if she should proceed. But she couldn't, and he made no effort to help her.

Then she realised; this was her turn to roll the dice, to risk it all in the face of possible rejection.

There was a time when she would have walked away; they both knew that. But she wasn't the woman he had known, the Andrea that hadn't been there for the people that needed her.

_Perhaps she still wasn't the Andrea he had dreamt of on the roof… but she wanted to be, for them both. And she was going to try._

She lowered her head and kissed him.

….

Well, I wasn't sure whether to extend this, as I worried it might ruin something I was quite happy with as a one shot. However, following the rather subdued reunion between Merle and Andrea in episode 3 and then the chemistry in episode 4, I thought I'd give it a go.

This will now be three chapters, so one more to go. If you enjoyed it, please just take a few seconds to review – it's much appreciated.

Update: One of the reviewers raised this and since it's a completely fair point I thought I'd better address it. On the show itself it does seem as though the group went back for Merle the next day. However, both Michael Rooker and Frank Darabont have said that Merle was left there for three, maybe even four days, hence his being extremely delirious at the start of episode 3. I went for roughly three days, simply because beyond that point without water in the heat he'd just be unconscious, never mind being still able to get the saw, cut off his hand and escape. I think this is just one of those not infrequent occasions where the shows jumps around with their timeline a little, hence the confusion. Hope this helps!


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter Three**

Her mouth was soft and gentle on his, and after a few moments he responded, slowly, carefully, as though savouring something he had wanted for a long time.

Andrea hadn't known tenderness could be a part of their sexual repertoire. She had been in passionate relationships before, but until now there had never been that slow burn of affection beneath the lust, anchoring her to the moment emotionally as well as physically.

The darkness left her blind, so as they kissed she slid her hands up to cup his face, resting fully against him now. She lightly ran her thumbs back and forth over those high, cruel cheekbones, feeling the warmth of taut skin over bone. In response, Merle moved his hand into her hair, slipping out the grips and bands until it hung lose about her shoulders. He worked his fingers into it and massaged the back of her skull, gradually becoming more demanding as he controlled the force and angle of the kiss. Andrea was surprised at how much she enjoyed him doing so, and for a while she allowed him dominance.

That was probably what made him ask.

Dragging himself away from the kiss, tugging her head back lightly when she tried to follow him, he asked gruffly, "This a pity fuck, darlin'?" Before she could speak, he added, "Not tha' I won't fuckin' take it, ya understan', but I wanna know." Even in the dark, she could feel his eyes attempting to search her face.

Ignoring the pain of pulled hair, she lent down and pressed a hard kiss against his lips, but with assertion more than aggression.

"I'm not a _total_ bitch, Merle, but I'm enough of one that I _don't_ _do_ pity fucks." Andrea pressed a softer kiss against his lips, and then another, flicking her tongue along the seam until he finally allowed her entry, his hand moving to cup the back of her neck. She teased his tongue with hers, but this time it was less a duel and more a duet, each movement slow and sinuous. Eventually her mouth followed the hard line of his jaw, dragging soft kisses over the rough stubble as her hair slid across his neck.

"_Merle_," she purred right into his ear, timing it with a grind of her hips and enjoying the involuntary jerk he gave, "Can we have the candle back?" She tugged his earlobe with her teeth before adding, "I want to _see_ you when I touch you…"

That got the desired response. Holding her to him with his damaged arm, he quickly rolled them over so she was on her back, pinning her to the bed. While she giggled in surprise, he knelt back slightly and reached over her head, fumbling for a match on the bedside cabinet. Andrea heard it strike on something and a tiny light flared in the room, before expanding as lit the first candle, then two smaller ones which sat beside it. The room brightened considerably and she blinked a little as her eyes adjusted, only to find Merle staring down at her. Somehow he looked less drawn, but Andrea noticed he was smiling a strange little half smile rather than his usual smirk. Something was still slightly off, and she was struck by a strange impulse to reassure him somehow.

She smiled boldly up at him.

"_There_ you are…," she teased, reaching up and running her fingers down from his temple to the point of his chin, tracing her thumb along his bottom lip. He shocked her slightly by snapping his teeth at it playfully. She gasped a laugh, and placed an admonishing finger against his mouth, saying with mock reproval, "Hey! No biters allowed! Governor's orders." He grinned fully now and tried to nibble on it, and she was pleased to see something of the old Merle creeping back. Andrea would be the first to admit she didn't have the greatest sense of humour, but for the first time she allowed herself to enjoy Merle's playfulness. She had never encouraged it in him before; back then she feared it took them too close some kind of understanding, to opening themselves to the possibility of affection.

_Yet there was the wonder of it, _she thought._ In world where neither of them should have stood a chance of survival, where they were both damaged and changed by each other… here they were, still alive and still together… and wanting to remain so. She wasn't in love with Merle… she couldn't call it that. Not even close, maybe. But she knew that with tonight, there would be something to build on... and, one day…_

But Andrea knew if they were to build something together, she needed to knock down some of the walls she had constructed. She decided to begin by continuing to indulge the playful element he always tried to bring to sex.

"Why are you still up there?" she pouted, trailing her finger straight down from his lips, over his throat and onto his chest, before hooking it into the top of his wife beater and tugging playfully. "Come back here. I need you…"

Merle lowered himself back down to her slowly, cautiously. She could feel he was still keeping the majority of his bulk off her, resting on his elbows. Moving to take his weight on one arm, he reached up and smoothed her hair back from her face, fingers lingering to stroke the soft curls. "Mmm… back to the hair again, are we?" she chuckled. "I'm starting to think Merle Dixon has a thing for blondes." She pulled him down for a kiss, but was unable to stop grinning against his mouth.

He captured her lower lip with his teeth and tugged on it before responding. "Jus' one in partic'lar." Andrea moaned her satisfaction with that response, and he hummed one of his low chuckles. After planting a quick kiss on her lips he began to nuzzle beneath her ear, his nose buried in her hair. Suddenly she realised what was bothering her.

She was doing all the talking. It was as though their previous encounters had been reversed. Merle was such a verbal person, and she felt a brief flash of guilt at the many times she had shut him down before…_ but after all he had told her, shared with her, could Merle still think that she didn't like him talking during sex? Surely he realised now that the problem had been she liked it too much? _

_Another opportunity for her to set them on the right path by taking the first step…_

Turning slightly, she began to run her tongue along his jugular, the vulnerable area she had struck so cruelly over a year before. She wondered if he remembered. Gradually moving up to his ear, she whispered, "_Merle_, would you like to know what _I _have a thing for...?"

He lifted his head and looked down at her in confusion, his hand sliding off her hair to rest beside her head. Andrea took advantage of the candlelight and made sure she held his eyes as she spoke.

"The first thing I noticed about you was your _arms_." She watched with some amusement as Merle's confusion increased, his frown becoming more pronounced. "I always had a bit of a thing for strong arms…" she ran her hands along his forearms up to his biceps, which were bulging slightly from supporting his weight, and exulted in the pleasure of rubbing her palms over the hard curve "… you always had them on display, all that smooth skin… I'd watch you skin a deer, or fiddle with that ridiculous motorcycle of yours, and want to run my mouth over them, to feel your muscles flex underneath my tongue..."

He was staring at her in silence, looking slightly shocked. She heard the rustle of sheets by her ear as his hand clenched tightly.

"…then I noticed your eyes… I don't know, maybe they're only pure, beautiful thing about you. Such a perfect blue…" she reached up one hand and traced the strong arch of his brow, and his eyes seemed to flicker shut for a moment. "…even in the dark, I'd see them, imagine them in my mind, when you were over me, behind me, _inside_ me..."

Those perfect blue eyes were now aflame in the candlelight. She slid her hands over the wife beater onto his chest, feeling his heart beating rapidly, and when she lightly raked her nails down onto his stomach she felt his breathing hitch.

"…_but_, Merle, _but_… what really drove me crazy?… it was that stupid 'fuck you' smirk of yours. When I arrived, I'd see you strut around camp like you owned it… God, it pissed me off seeing you…not caring what anyone thought of you, not needing anyone else's respect when you had your own. I envied that, Merle; I even admired you, I really did. I was so jealous, thinking I could never be like that. Then, when we got together… I'd see you look at me in camp with that smirk, and I wondered if one time you'd just get tired of all the bullshit secrecy and fuck me so everyone would know, everyone would see. In your tent. In the bed of your pick-up…even up against a tree, just like you said. You got me so _wet_, Merle, you and that smirk of yours. When we didn't meet, I'd wait until the others were asleep and touch myself, thinking about us, about _you_…I'd come so quickly for you, Merle, so_ easily_…"

Andrea was pretty sure he'd stopped breathing entirely now. His face was slack with lust but his eyes were hot and intent on her face, absorbing every word coming out of her mouth. She linked her hands round the back of his neck but kept the pressure light, not forcing him, while a slender thumb traced the shell of his ear.

"…it's _probably_ something I should have said a long time ago, and it's _definitely_ something I lost the right to ask… but, Mister Merle Dixon of Atlanta, Georgia… I want you, I have for a very long time, even though I was too stupid and scared to admit it, and I'm asking you nicely to please fuck me."

His mouth was on hers before she'd finished pronouncing the 'e'.

…

When Andrea was a typical teenager in search of meaning, she had gone through a brief flirtation with Buddhism. However, she had abandoned it rather rapidly as she could never accept annihilation of the self; now she understood why. From a philosophical viewpoint, severing earthly desire was all very well, but when you were writhing under a man who set every nerve ending you had on fire, all that spiritual crap went right out of the window.

Merle had taken complete possession of her mouth, and didn't stop kissing her even when he ripped off her t-shirt. _Shit, he'll have to lend me one of his when we leave… _Andrea thought at the back of her mind as she tried to yank his wife beater up and off him. He wasn't helping much however. He was now too busy shoving her bra up to her neck, taking one eager nipple into his mouth while his hand toyed with the other.

"Fuck! _Merle_…!" she gasped, arching up into his mouth as he sucked the bud hard. Her hands slid up to clutch his head more tightly to her, fingers ruffling the close cropped hair. He grunted his agreement with her sentiments, trying to yank off her bra while still suckling her. The sting of the fabric catching on her skin brought Andrea back to herself just enough to intervene – a well fitted bra was hard to come by these days.

"Hold on," she said quickly, before wrapping her knees around his hips and attempting to roll him over. He was too heavy for her to move, but he realised what she was trying to do and complied, still holding her around the waist. She pulled herself upright, seating herself over his groin, and there was a satisfyingly wet pop as he released her breast from his mouth. His hand however remained massaging her other breast, while his stump rubbed over her hip. She reached back and undid her bra, slipping it off and casting it off into a dark corner of the room. Merle gave a half groan at seeing her so bare in the candle light, and tried to sit up and taste her skin again. Instead, she placed a hand in the centre of his chest and gently pushed him back to the bed. "Not yet. Stay there." She slowly slid off him to stand on the floor, being sure to drag herself firmly over the hard bulge beneath her. His head slipped back as he fought for control and she admired the strong lines of his throat. _Hmm, later Andrea, later…_

Turning slowly away from him, Andrea slipped out of her shoes, undid her pants and gradually slid them down to her ankles, being sure to bend at the waist and offering him a prime view of her ass in the skimpy black panties she wore. They were a little worn, but judging by the slightly strangled sigh she heard behind her, Merle wasn't in the mood to care. Shooting the prone and fascinated man a coy look over her shoulder, she straightened and began to inch the panties off slowly. When she had them around one ankle, she quickly whipped them into her hand and, spinning around, threw them into Merle's startled face. As he pulled them away, she enjoyed his wide blue eyes emerging to stare at her completely naked form in the candlelight. Smirking herself, she cocked her hip confidently and said, "I know it's been a while since we did this, so…still interested?"

The look on Merle's face spoke for him, but after swallowing he managed to rasp out, "C'mere, woman."

"Of course, Merle," she said, her own voice becoming throaty as she knelt on the bed and began to crawl over him, "by the way, you can keep those panties for now. I'm not going to need them for a while…" She lowered her mouth to his, her hair falling around their faces like a golden veil in the soft light. As he tried to reach for her though, she captured his wrists and tried to lower them back down to the bed.

"_Fuck_, woman, I _need_ ta touch ya," he said, slightly exasperated as he eventually let her push them down. "Ya can't put on a show like tha' fer a man an' leave him wantin'."

Andrea smiled down at him. "Believe me, I intend for you to do a considerable amount of wanting _and_ touching tonight. In fact, I hope you don't have to be anywhere early in the morning, because what I have planned could take all night." As his eyes darkened in anticipation, she pressed her cheek to his and whispered, "You see, _I'm _not planning on a five minute job either…"

She licked and nibbled down from his ear to where his neck joined his shoulder, where she bit a little more roughly, just enough to remind him of their first time together down on the shore of the quarry. He moaned slightly, and she moved across to nuzzle and kiss the stubbled expanse of his throat. Andrea didn't know how he did it, but no matter how often Merle shaved he seemed to have a permanent five o'clock shadow. With a final press to indicate he shouldn't move them, she lifted her hands from his wrists and slid them under his wife beater.

She pushed it up over his chest but didn't remove it, instead running her palms over his flat belly and up through his curly hair. Seeking out his nipples, she lightly flicked and pinched them, feeling him struggle not to buck his hips against her. Slowly, she lowered her mouth to one nipple and circled it with her tongue, moistening it before blowing cool air across it. "Jesus, woman!" he yelped, as he finally bucked against her. She laughed low in her throat and moved across to his other nipple, this time sucking it into the warmth of her mouth. "Shit, ya gonna be the death of me," Merle panted, his breathing irregular.

"I _hope_ not," whispered Andrea against the skin of his belly as she slid down to kneel between his legs on the floor, "I'm not finished with you yet..." He watched in what could only be described as hopeful disbelief as she quickly unbuckled his cargo pants and released his cock from the confines of his boxers. She stroked a finger down the side of it as though petting it, and grinned as it twitched in response. Merle groaned.

"But… ya never…" he began.

Andrea knew what he meant. She had never gone down on him, feeling it too intimate a gesture. Whenever he had tried to go down her she had pulled his head away, knowing she could never reciprocate.

"I know. It was too… I couldn't before. But, Merle, we're _not there_ anymore." Taking him in her hand, she ran her tongue over his thick head before speaking again, so he could feel the little puffs of her words teasing his damp skin. "No more boundaries. I told you. We're here. _I'm_ here. And I want to _taste_ you, Merle…."

To her surprise, Merle suddenly lunged at her, grabbing her beneath her arms and lifting her as best as he could onto the bed before lying between her legs. This time he captured her hands as best he could before kissing her hard on the mouth. "Sorry, darlin," he said, face flushed with desire, "but ya carry on like tha' an' a five minute job is all y'all be gettin'." As she smiled at his joke, his own smile became more wolfish. "Ya won't be smilin' in a minute…" he promised, his voice a growl.

Andrea was confused as he pulled away from her. "Oh? And what does that… _Merle!_" she gasped as he licked her core. She was too stunned to say any more as he shifted his position so her legs were over his shoulders, his hand holding her open as he worked his tongue into her moist cleft. "_Ah_… God, Merle…" she moaned, as he flicked her nub back and forth with his tongue, moving so a finger circled again and again around the edge of her opening. She was already so wet he soon slipped a finger into her, then two.

"Holy _fuck_, Merle!" she cried, as he began to work them inside her, moving them back and forth, curling them around to find that special spot he apparently remembered very well. "I can't…I'm going…"

"Ya can an' ya are," growled Merle, placing a firm lick up her slit while continuing to move his fingers inside her. "Ya gonna come fer me, an' ya gonna say my name when ya do, understan'?"

"Mmm…" Andrea moaned, and he returned his tongue to her, flicking it over her until he felt her tightening around his fingers. He quickly took her clit into his mouth and sucked hard, the pressure bringing her pulsing over the edge. "Merle! _Fuck!_ God… _Merle!_" she screamed as she arched into his mouth; only throwing his damaged arm firmly over her stomach saved Merle from being pitched off her completely.

As the exquisite throbbing subsided slightly and her breathing started to return to normal, she opened her eyes to find Merle propped up on his elbow next to her, his eyes still hot but the full Dixon smirk restored to his face. She knew it would inflate his ego, but she had to smile to see it.

He gave one of his low humming chuckles. "Hmm, I _like_ getting' my water fresh from tha' well," he drawled. "Think ya gonna have ta get used ta it, darlin'."

She snorted slightly breathlessly. "I don't think 'get used to it' is the term _I'd_ use." The smirk became even deeper and smugger.

_Oh, dangerous, Merle, dangerous, to tempt me now…_

Her smile became more wolfish in turn and she sat up. "You won't be smirking in a minute…" she said as she kissed him, tasting herself on his lips and tongue. As he reached for her, she dodged his grasp and slipped off the bed to stand by him. She patted the bed gently and said softly, "Sit here, Merle."

Merle eyes were dark and his gaze intent on her as he swung his legs over the side of the bed. He was still fully clothed while Andrea was completely naked, but she wanted it that way; she wanted him see she was willing to feel vulnerable with him. Placing her hands on his thighs she parted his legs and knelt between them; his flies were still undone, but he had tried as best he could to tuck his still hard cock into his boxers. Carefully, she tugged his clothing down a little more and pulled him out, caressing him with both hands before placing her lips on the tip and licking off the pre-cum.

Merle swallowed a gasp, and although she felt him tremble under her hands he managed to prevent himself from thrusting forward into her mouth. Covering her teeth, she slid her mouth down and took his head into her mouth, one hand pulling back his skin gently and the other caressing the base of his cock. He did jerk slightly this time, and let out a long, heartfelt moan as he fell back onto his elbows. His eyes were closed, so she held herself still until Merle finally opened them again and looked back at her, the deep blue slightly hazed with lust.

Holding his stare, she bobbed her head over him, alternating between fast and slow movements, while her tongue swirled and licked over his head and shaft. His breath hissed between his teeth as she pleasured him, and at one point she even took a fistful of her hair and wrapped the thick silk around his cock, before using it like a brush to tease his shaft. His jaw dropped at that image, and Andrea saw he couldn't tear his eyes away. It was only when she finally licked her way down to suckle the skin of his balls that his head fell back again and he almost whined in ecstasy. Granting him mercy she worked her way back to his head and began to move faster, increasing the pressure on him with her mouth and hands. Then she felt his large hand thread back into her hair and tenderly pull her away.

"Stop, darlin'…stop," he panted, "Can't take much more o' tha."

"I don't have to stop." His eyes flared as he took in the meaning of her words, but he shook his head gently.

"No, darlin', another time. I've waited so fuckin' long. I want ta come inside ya."

She nodded solemnly. "I want you too."

He slipped his hand from her hair and they both stood slowly. Andrea gripped the bottom of his wife beater and slid it up over his head, before lowering his pants and boxers. Merle pulled her to him, and as he kissed her deeply she could feel him pressed hot and hard against her belly.

He pulled her over to the bed and lowered her to it, then paused staring at her, as though uncertain of what to do next now the moment had finally arrived. She looped her arms around his neck and pulled him into a kiss, then wrapped her legs around his hips and linked her ankles behind him. He took the hint, and pressed his blunt head against her hot slick core. "Mmm… remember, I want you too, Merle," she whispered, and he thrust fully into her.

"_Jesus_," he muttered, "Jesus _Christ_…"

It had been a while for both of them, and this time she did not hurry him to move. Instead, she focussed on the simple joy that was the warmth and weight of this man's body around her, the heat and fullness of him inside her, and the uneven rasp of his breathing in her ear. In a world full of death and ugliness, she had found something alive and beautiful.

For the first time since Amy's death, she was happy.

…

He began to move, long slow strokes that made her take his full length before pulling nearly all the way out. The friction was blissful torture, and while Andrea revelled in the sensation she knew neither of them would last long. As she buried her nails into his shoulders, his back, his ass, she could feel his rhythm beginning to pick up speed, his breathing slightly more ragged in her ear. She moved one hand to stroke his face. "Merle," she begged, "_Merle_, look at me please; I want to see your eyes when I come…"

He lifted his head, and she marvelled at how many emotions Merle's eyes could reflect. "Fuck, woman," he groaned, "how tha fuck did ya find a way ta make this shit hotter…?"

Andrea lifted her hand to run it through his hair before pulling him down for one of their sloppy kisses, all heat and want and no finesse. She was already nearing the fiery edge she had reached earlier, so she clenched tightly around Merle, causing him to grunt deep in his throat as he looked down at her. In only a few more strokes she reached her peak, and as she shattered around him gasping his name, he came hard inside her, jerking and shuddering as he held her painfully tight against him. Exhausted, he collapsed on her, head pillowed on her heaving breasts. Lazily she reached up and caressed his head, tracing the shape of his skull with boneless fingers.

After a few minutes, Merle made to move off her, but she forestalled him, wrapping her legs more firmly around him and clutching his head to her. "S'alright, darlin', I'm heavy…"

"Then you can roll over slightly, but your head stays here." He snorted at her bossy tone, but left his head cushioned on her while he shifted his weight to her side. She resumed stroking his head. "Go to sleep now, Merle" she said quietly, "I'll be here when you wake up."

He grunted slightly, but after wrapping his bad arm around her waist tightly, he did eventually fall asleep. Andrea soon followed.

…

She was woken by a sense of light shining into her eyes. Opening them slowly, she realised Merle was standing by the window, the curtain of which he had pulled back to let in the first light of dawn. He was leaning against the window frame, one of his strange smiles on his face, and once again sublimely uncaring of the fact that any other early riser in Woodbury would be getting quite a view if they chanced to look up. As she had once feared, Merle's playfulness was clearly contagious; for some reason she could feel laughter bubbling up inside her.

"While I'm enjoying the view, either put some clothes on or come back to bed. You'll shock the upstanding citizenry of Woodbury, hanging your ass out of the window like that."

He grinned. "Jus' lettin' 'em know wha' they're missin'."

"Oh, I _see_," she said, mock seriously, before pulling back the covers and letting the soft pink light of dawn illuminate her nakedness, "and are you _missing_ anything this morning?"

He pounced on her instantly and Andrea pretended to fight him off, laughing, "Oh _no_, Merle, you're _cold_! I was all cosy under the blankets…"

He was merciless however, and not half an hour later they were both breathless and considerable warmer under the covers. This time she was sprawled on top of Merle, his arms wrapped around her and her breath tickling the hair of his chest. She felt him kiss the top of her head, before he said quietly, "I'm glad you stayed, Andrea."

She angled her head to look up at him, trying not to look too smug. "Andrea? Not Blondie? Or woman?"

"My Andrea," he affirmed, slightly gruffly, as though he felt silly saying it in the light of day. Andrea wasn't sure she wanted to think about how moved she was by those two simple words. _Perhaps one day I'll feel I deserve them._

"I'm glad I stayed too," she said quickly, before either of them got too embarrassed about it. She stretched and planted a quick kiss in the hollow of his throat before settling down again. Suddenly a thought struck her, and this time she rolled up so she could look his straight in the eye. "And another thing, Merle Dixon. Since you have _me_, _you_ no longer have _nothing_. That mean's_ we, _Merle and Andrea_,_ have _something_. Got that?"

Andrea watched with a deep, warm, and completely unidentifiable emotion curling through her, as Merle's face went from surprised, to thoughtful, to her favourite 'fuck-you' smirk.

"Yes, ma'am," he smirked, pulling her back onto his chest.

"Damn right, yes ma'am," she smirked, and together they watched a new day break over a dead world.

…

Well, insanely long but there we have it; lashings of smut and warm fuzziness to err…finish us off, if you'll forgive the pun. This is the last chapter unless the show does something that pisses me off completely like killing Merle this season, in which case I shall completely lose my shit, in full Nic Cage style glory, and be forced to write a final chapter where Merle and Andrea escape Woodbury and live happily ever after or some such romantic nonsense.

So, many thanks for your support, I hope you've enjoyed this and do please take the time to review, it's very much appreciated.


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